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A Telegram From Dad 



Price, 15 Cents 




•DPTRIOMTt «•••* BT WALTCR H. BAKCR 4 •» 






THE AMAZONS ^^rce in Three Acts. Seyen males, fitTe femaleSc 
^^ Costumes, modern; scenery, not difficult. Plays 

a fall erening. 

mrARIWFT MINICTPD Tarce in Pour Acts. Ten males, nine 
WADinCI fflinidlGK f^^^j^g^ costumes, modem society; 

scene? y, three interiors. Plays a full evening, 

DANDY DICK •^*'^*'® ^ Three Acts. Seven males, four females. 
Costumes, modem ; scenery, two interiors. Plays 
two hours and a halt 

THE GAY LORD ODEX comedy in Four Acts. Four males ten 

V X *^ females. Costimies, modern ; scenery, 

two interiors and an exterior. Plays a full evening. 

BIS BODSB IH ORDER ^Z^Z^-^Z^Z^^T^:^. 

three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

THE HORRY HOR^ comedy in Three Acts. Ten males, five 
^^ females. Costumes, modern; scenery easy. 

Plays two hours and a half. 

IRIS ^'^*™'* ^ Five Acts. Seven males, seven females. . CostiuneSj 
modem ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. . 

LADY RODNTI^L ^^^ ^ ■^''''"° '^*'*^° Eght males, seven fe- 
V vw 1 ui« jjiales. Costumes, modern; scenery, four in- 

teriors, not easy. Plays a full evening. 

LETTY -^^*™'* *^ Four Acts and an Epilogue. Ten males, five fe- 
^ males. Costumes, modem 5 BCenery complicated. Plays a 

full evening. 



Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 

Walttt ^. 15a6eiJ d Compani? 

NOo 5 Hamilton Place, Boston, Massachusetts 

Sn -' Vi — JTn "" : ■„ , ■ ' ,.„ 



A Teleeram From Dad 



A Farce in One Act 



By 

J. M. TAYLOR 

Author of ^^The Man From Brandon" etc. 



BOSTON 
WALTER H. BAKER & CO. 



■yS^^' 



A Telegram From Dad 



CHARACTERS 



Billy Burnham, a senior. 

James E. Rush, a football coach. 

Pete Waters, a second senior. 

Terry Flynn, another senior. 

Charles Augustus Livermore, Chief of Police. 

Messenger Boy. 

Mrs. James E. Rush. 




Copyright, 1911, by Walter H. Baker & Co. 



©CID 24860 



A Telegram From Dad 



SCENE. — A sttidenfs room strewn with clothes , books and 
various paraphernalia. Pete Waters and Terry Flynn 
are seated 07i either side of table reading. 

'^Ki^ {stretching and lazily picking up pipe'). Aw gee. It's 
seven o'clock and I have fourteen note-books, more or less, to 
write up to-night. This college is on the punk, anyhow. 
There isn't a course in the whole joint that's conducted right. 

Terry {glancing up). What's the matter with 'em? 

Pete. They all try to run in too much education on a 
fellow. 

Terry. Well, what the deuce are you kicking about ? Isn't 
that what you came here for ? 

Pete {filling pipe). Naw. I came here for a diploma. 

Terry. And expected the faculty to serve it up to you on 
a silver plate. You're some disappointed, I suppose. 

Pete. A trifle. They seem to serve them up here on the 
end of an upright greased pole. 

{Lights match and applies it to pipe.) 

Terry. Save that match. {Searches eagerly for pipe. 
Finds it.) Ah, discovered, {Leans across table and holds 
pipe under Pete's match. Sits.) Where's Billy ? 

Pete. I don't know. Out on one of his usual trouble 
hunts, I suppose. Is the Daily over there anywhere ? 

Terry {tossing over things on table). Here you are. 

{Hands paper to Pete.) 

Pete {settling back with paper). Now, let's see what's 
doing. {Reads; local notes, etc.) Hello, I see that the 
athletic association has engaged Rush as assistant coach for 
the football team. 

Terry. Is he the Dartmouth ex-captain ? 

Pete. Yep, And one of the best all-around players in the 

3 



4 A TELEGRAM FROM DAD 

country. Made a ninety-yard run for a touch-down against 
Yale the last year he played. 

Terry. I suppose they'll stick him in this building some- 
where. Seems as though everybody who comes to town gets 
run in here. 

Pete. Well, remember that this is not a college building 
but a hotel, and the fundamental failing of hotels in general is 
that they take people to board. But what if he does come 
here? He won't bother you any, will he? 

Terry. I don't suppose he will, but I get sick of having 
the bunch here changing all the time. Just as soon as I get 
used to the idiosyncrasies of this gang some one else comes 
along and I have to begin all over again. And some of them 
have the doggonedest ideas. There's that old guy in number 
ten who got sore at me just because I got into his room by 
mistake one night and accidentally stepped on his silk hat. 
What the deuce did he want to leave his hat lying around for, 
anyway? Then that woman in eighteen raised thunder just 
because I was singing in the 

Pete. Oh, forget it ! If your singing that night was any- 
thing like some that I have heard you turn out I wouldn't have 
blamed her a bit if she had shot you. 

Terry. Thanks. I'll make you eat that comphment some 
day. If my singing was anything like the noise that you made 

on the night of the class banquet, Td (^Clattering and 

banging outside l.) What the deuce is all that roAV ? 

Enter Billy Burnham, l., dragging huge sign. 

Pete. What in the name of Caesar's ghost and Santa Claus 
have you got there ? 

Billy. Oh, just a little something to add to the mural 
decorations in my room. 

Terry. Your darn mural decorations will be the means of 
getting this whole bunch pinched some day. 

Billy. Not with the present police force in power. Say, 
fellows, I've been in this town more than three years now and 
I've never seen the chief of police. Wouldn't even know that 
there was one if the papers didn't mention him now and then. 
{Deposits sign on floor, R.) There, I reckon that will be safe 
until I get ready to put it on the wall. 

Pete. Oh, it's safe enough. Nobody but you would be 
fool enough to steal such an awkward and generally useless 
doggone thing as that is. 



A TELEGRAM FROM DAD 5 

Billy. You'll get yourself excited if you're not careful, 
Pele, {Produces pipe?) Give me a match. 

Pete. Haven't any. 

BiLLV. All right, then. I suppose I'll have to use one of 
my own. {Produces match and lights pipe.) The question 
now, gentlemen, is what shall I do to-night. (Produces coin.) 
Heads I study, tails I don't. {Tosses coin.) Tails it is. (Sits 
R. and picks up newspaper.) I never was in favor of over- 
studying, anyway. It undermines a fellow's health and makes 
him prematurely bald-headed. 

Terry. Gee, what a head of hair you'll have at seventy. 
If it's white, you'll rival Mark Twain. 

Pete. Or an albino buffalo. {Telephone rings in adjoin- 
ing room. Exit Vet^, c. Pete, ozitside.) Hello! Yes 

I say, yes, it is What? Oh, he will Yah. I 

guess so Yes, he's here All right, we'll do what we 

can Yah What? Oh, doggone it all, no All 

right. Good-bye. 

Enter Pete, c. 

Terry. Well, who was it ? Prexy ? 

Pete. Prexy ! I should say not. But look here, Terry, 
we're up against it good and hard in the way of a tough propo- 
sition. 

Terry. Well, spring it. 

Pete. That was Halleck, of the football management, and 
from what he says it's up to you and me to save the team by 
securing Rush for a coach. We can't let him slip out of our 
hands for a minute. 

Terry. Say, what are you having ? Another pipe-dream ? 

Pete. Pipe-dream nothing. It seems that Rush has made 
some sort of a conditional contract with two colleges. Nobody 
knows exactly what he is trying to do, and he don't act as if 
he really understood it himself. The main thing is, however, 
that the first team to get him to appear at practice in a suit gets 
him. Now it's up to us to get him into a suit and drag him 
off to a special practice that is to be held in the gym to- 
night. 

Terry. Very brilliant scheme. But what if the Honorable 
Mr. Rush objects to putting on a suit and going to practice ? 

Pete. He can't object. If he does, it's simply up to us to 
put the suit on him by main force. 
. Terry. What ! Use force On a man who has made ninety 



b A TELEGRAM FROM DAD 

yards through the Yale field ? You can force all you want to, 
but excuse Terry Flynn. 

Pete. But doggone it all, it's up to us. We can't back 
out. 

Terry. I know, Petey, old boy, but just think how much 
more graceful we would appear backing out all by ourselves 
than being kicked out bodily by the estimable Mr. Rush. 

Pete. Well, Halleck has put it up to us and we simply 
must do it. 

Terry. Then suppose that we go around and talk Halleck 
into putting it up to somebody else. 

Pete. Come on over, then. He won't do it though. 

Terry {rising). More trouble pitched on my gentle and 
flowery path. 

Billy. That's right. You two go over to Halleck and 
make prime asses of yourselves, then come back here and do 
the job after all. 

Terry. Aw, go back to sleep. Come on, Pete. 

\_Exeimi Pete ajid Terry, l. 

Billy. This doggone paper gets rottener every day. Not a 
thing in it but ads. {Fitches paper on table.') Wonder if 
there are any magazines around that are not working. {Knock 
at door L.) Hello, who's here? {Calls.) Come in. {Enter 
Messenger Boy, very slowly, reading paper tiovel.) Well, 
who the deuce are you? (^oy pays no attention.) I say, who 
the deuce are you ? (Boy still reads. Billy slaps Boy on 
back ; shouts.) Wake up, there. Are you a human being? 

Boy {glancing lazily up). Naw, I'm a messenger boy. 

{Returns to his reading.) 

Billy. Well, what do you want here ? 

Boy {deliberately turning down leaf of novel, putting look 
in pocket and drawing out message book). I want William 
Burnham. 

Billy, Well, I'm William Burnham. 

Boy. There's a message. {Extends book.) Sign here. 
Half a dollar, please. 

{Produces book and cofitinues reading.) 

Billy {signing, taking telegram and returning book). Here 
you are, and here's the money. 

Boy, Thanks, [Exit h., still reading. 



A TELEGRAM FROM DAD 7 

Billy {gazhig after hint). Huh ! Talk about efficient mes- 
senger service. {Opens telegram.) Now who the deuce had 
the nerve to sling fifty cents' worth of talk at me ? (Jieads.) 
" Miss Corson, the young lady I want you to marry, will call 
on you this evening with her father. Signed, Father." {Leans 
back helplessly.) For heaven sake ! If that isn't a proposition 
to sling off on a man ! And me so young and tender. ( Glances 
at telegram.) Mm. Seems to be all cut and dried for me. 
What the deuce is dad thinking of, anyway ? Coming here to- 
night, too. The governor needn't try to run off any old hen 
on me, though. Nor any of those affected, gushing, would-be 
literary damsels that he's so fond of, either. {Rises and walks 
about roo7n.) Shucks! Why couldn't the governor have 
given me some warning of what he intended to do instead of 
springing it on me this way? Well, I'll see what I'm up 
against when the lady appears. But by the jumping Jimmy 
Mudge, I won't be forced into any marriage that I don't like. 

\Exit, c. 

Enter Charles Augustus Livermore, l. 

Liver, {walking about stage). My goodness, I feel nervous. 
In spite of my having been chief of police so long this is the 
first really important case that I have ever attempted alone. I 
wonder if anybody is liable to recognize me ? I don't think 
so, seeing that I am disguised as a private citizen. It is cer- 
tainly time that I were taking things in hand, for these college 
students are growing reprehensible in their behavior. To think 
of their daring to steal the sign from the store of one of our 
leading citizens. The idea ! Well, the miscreant shall be ar- 
rested and suffer the consequences of his rash deed. I only 
hope that I shall not be obliged to use violence when arresting 
him. I hate to be rough, especially to college students. Now 
to business. I wonder if the sign is in this room ? {Searches. 
Sees sign.) Ah, there it is. {Crosses to sign.) Now for the 
description. {Produces note-book.) Yes, the very sign. Color, 
white on black. Name, John Jones, hats. Length, six feet, 
eight and one-half inches. {Feels in pocket.) Oh, how dis- 
gusting ! I have forgotten my tape measure. Now how can I 
ever be able to absolutely identify that sign without being able 
to measure it ? Sugar ! What a deplorable oversight ! I 
know what I shall do, though. I shall arrest that man on sus- 
picion and hold him until I can measure this sign. {Glances 
about room.) Ah, a ruler. {Takes ruler from table.) Oh, 



8 A TELEGRAM FROM DAD 

my stars ! Only three inches long. Never mind. Duty is • 
duty, and I shall measure that sign with this rule. 

{Kneels before sign and begins to measure.') 

Enter Pete and Terry, l. 

Pete. I told you it would be of no use to try and argue 
with Halleck. You heard what he said ; it is up to us and we 
must do it. 

Terry. Oh, I heard all right. Pleasant prospect, too, I 
call it. We might as well try to 

(Pete sees Liver. Clutches Terry's arm.') 

Pete. Sh. There he is. {Points to Liver.) 

Terry. Is that the man ? 

Pete. It must be. 

Terry. Then he's got bats in his belfry. What's the blame 
fool trying to do, anyway? 

Pete. It makes no difference what he's trying to do, we 
must get him. Come on, 

(Pete ^;^^ Terry creep to Liver., and seize him from behind.) 

Liver, {screaming'). Don't hurt me. Dotft ! I haven't 
anthiug but an eight dollar watch. Here. {Extends watch.) 

Pete. Throw that watch away and shut up your yelling 
before I kick a lung out of you. 

Terry {dropping on chair, laughing). So that's the man 
who made a ninety- yard run through Yale? {Disgustedly.) 
He's a heck of a coach, he is. 

Liver. Now, please be reasonable, fellows. Really, I just 
came here to 

Pete. Don't you suppose we know what you came here 
for ? All that I have to say is that the man who engaged you 
to come must have been a prime idiot ; but since you are here 
we'll see that you serve your purpose. Where are those togs, 
Terry ? 

Liver. But let me explain how I came in 

Pete. We don't care a hang how you came in. Shut up 
your noise now, or you'll go out through the window. Get 
those togs, Terry. 

Terry. Here they are in the corner. 

{Goes to corner r., back, and returns tvith football togs.) 



A TELEGRAM FROM DAD 

Pete. Off with that coat, now. 

(Strips off luWEK.'s coat.) 
Liver. But, really, fellows- 



Pete. Shut up ! Here, get into this. {Forces Liver, into 
sweater.) We know all about you, my friend. 

Liver, [aside). I don't see how they could. I was in dis- 
guise, too. 

Pete (lioldiiig football pants). Come, get into these. 

Liver. What, put those dirty things on over my trousers ! 

Pete. Aw, thistle-down. {Throivs Liver, on his back and 
holds his legs in air while Terry drazvs pants over them.) 
Now we have you in a suit and we're going to do the I'cst of 
the job. You jump up and trot along with us. 

{Drags Liver, to his feet.) 

Liver. But I say 

Pete. Aw, shut up and come along, 

(Pete and Terry seize Liver, by his arms and drag him off 
stage, L.) 

Billy {appearing at door c). Hi, fellows ! I say ! Rats ! 
That must have been a ripping good rough-house, and I missed 
it. I see they got their man all right. Well, I have troubles 
of my own. \^Exit. 

Enter Mr. a7td Mrs. Rush, l. Rush is loaded with bundles 
and suit cases. 

Mrs. R. You are absolutely certain, James, that there are 
no students on this floor ? 

Rush. Positive. The clerk assured me that no students 
were even allowed to visit this floor. 

Mrs. R. That is well. {Glances about room.) This room 
seems to be in an awful state of disorder, James. You will in- 
form the clerk that our rooms are to be kept scrupulously clean. 

Rush. Huh ! I don't see anything the matter with this 
room. You can't expect a fellow to live in a band-box all his 
life. 

Mrs. R. That will do, James. We will not argue on that 
subject any more. 

Rush. Oh, well. (Throws bundles into corner.) When 
we move into our own house here in town I shall have a room 



10 A TELEGRAM FROM DAD 

of my own, and I'll kill any servant who conries in and dis- 
turbs my things. 

Mrs. R. When we are in our own house, James, you may 
do as you please with your room, but while we are living in a 
hotel our rooms shall be kept as I want them. 

Rush. Oh, all right. Suit yourself. But I must go and 
see Halleck, if I can find him in. {^Glances at watch.') Not 
much show of finding him now, I'm afraid. 

Mrs. R. Wait a moment, James. Open my suit case be- 
fore you go. 

Rush (Jaymg suit case on table and proceeding to open it). 
Don't delay me any more than necessary. I'll have to hurry. 

Mrs. R. And don't forget about my groom, James. I 
want one to-night sure, so that I may go riding in the morning. 

Rush. Oh, yes, I'll get him. 

Mrs. R. Remember, James, that I am to choose him for 
myself. Send one up to me and I shall do the engaging. I 
want to test his knowledge of horses. 

Rush. Huh ! What do you know about horses that would 
enable you to question a groom ? 

Mrs. R. That makes no difference. I have a list of ques- 
tions that he must answer to my satisfaction. 

Rush. Do you know the correct answers? 

Mrs. R. I can tell by the way he talks whether he is an- 
swering correctly or not. 

Rush (aside). Yes, probably. {Aloud. Throws suit case 
open.) Well, I'll send one up, and you can engage him or 
not. I must go now. Will be back shortly. \_Exit, l. 

Mrs. R. (gazing about room). What an awful state this 
room is in. I should think a gang of tramps had been occu- 
pying it. Well, I really must wash my hands, they are so fear- 
fully travel-stained. 

(^Takes towel from suit case and exits L.) 

Enter Billy, c. 

Billy. Now what can I do with myself? It looks as 
though I might be obliged to study as a last resort. Wonder 
who dumped all that rubbish in here. It probably belongs to 
the new coach. (Crosses to table and picks up pipe.) There's 

his (Stares in astotiishment at suit case.) What in tlie 

name of General Jackson ! ( Walks about table surveying case 
from all angles.) Now, who the deuce does that belong to, 



A TELEGRAM FROM DAD II 

and where did it come from ? (^Picks lady's waist from case 
and surveys it at arm' s length.^ The coach certainly can't 
wear that thing. {Drops waist back in case.) Now what the 
deuce are we up against here ? 

Enter Mrs. R., c. Surveys Bili,y haughtily. 

Mrs. R. (icily). Well, what are you doing here ? 

Billy (turning qidckly ; aside). Well, who in the name of 
the great George Washington may she be ? 

Mrs. R. If you don't answer me immediately I shall ring 
for the hotel employees and have you put out. 

Billy (aside). Well, that's cool. Have me put out of my 
own rooms. (Aloud.) You see, lady, I am here because 

Mrs. R. Oh, you must be the groom. 

Billy (aside). I must be who ? The groom ? Great jump- 
ing catfish ! She must be Miss Corson. Calls me the groom, 
too. Say, she certainly is some of a hustler. Well, she don't 
want to be too doggone sure that I'm the groom. 

Mrs. R. (producing paper). I have some questions here 
that I wish you to answer. If your answers impress me favor- 
ably you may consider yourself engaged. 

Billy. Thank you. (Aside.) I wonder where her father 
is. He must be around somewhere. I don't seem to have 
much to do with this matter except to answer questions and do 
as I'm told generally. I certainly do admire the mess that the 
governor has contrived to get me into. 

Mrs. R. I hope you don't drink. I was obliged to dis- 
charge my last groom because he would persist in getting 
drunk. 

Billy (aside). Discharged her last groom because ■ 

Say, she's got rats in her garret. 

Mrs. R. Be seated. (Billy sits right of table ; Mrs. R. 
sitting left.) Now then, what do you know about horses ? 

Billy. Not a da I beg pardon. Nothing. 

Mrs. R. What ! Nothing ! What do you mean ? 

Billy. Oh — er — I mean — er — that there is nothing that I 
don't know about them. (Aside.) What the heck am I up 
against ? Confound this idea of taking an ex without a pony. 

Mrs. R. What do you know about blind staggers ? 

Billy (aside). I wonder if she's stringing me. (Aloud.) 
Well, you see, we fellows very often have a little time together 
and then there are apt to be several cases of blind staggers. 



12 A TELEGRAM FROM DAD 

Mrs, R. What do you do for them ? 

Billy. Well, I usually call a cab. 

Mrs. R. Do you believe in the use of checks ? 

Billy (aside). She certainly is some businesshke. {Aloud.) 
No, I don't care for checks. I greatly prefer cash myself. 

Mrs. R. What sort of a bridle v/ould you use ? 

Billy {aside). What sort of a what ? Oh, I see. She 
means the wedding trip. {Aloud.) Oh, you could suit your- 
self about that. 

Mrs. R. Oh, by the way. You haven't as yet told me 
your name. 

Billy {aside). Well, what do you know about that ? She 
and father hatch up a scheme between them to get me married 
off to her and then she innocently remarks that she don't know 
my name. Well, I'll be doggoned ! {Aloud.) It's the same 
as father's. 

Mrs. R. {haughtily). No impertinence, sir. Answer me 
immediately. What is your name ? 

Billy {meekly). William Burnham, ma'am. 

Mrs. R. Very well, Burnham, I think that you can con- 
sider yourself engaged. 

Billy. Well, I'll be bumped if that isn't the coolest propo- 
sition that has come my way yet. She didn't even ask me if I 
wanted to be engaged, but just informed me that I was. Now, 
doggone it all, she doesn't want to be too blamed sure that I'm 
engaged. I'm not very certain of it myself. 

Mrs. R. Now I shall expect you to do your work in a very 
conscientious manner. 

Billy. My work ! 

Mrs. R. Yes, certainly. I shall expect you to go to work 
in the morning. {Glances at hand and rises hastily.) I see 
that I carelessly left one of my rings when I was out a moment 
ago. {Goes toward door l.) You will wait here until I 
return. \_Exit, l. 

Billy. Now what do you think of that ? Expects me to go 
to work in the morning. Say, she must have a few shingles 
loose. Who the deuce is she, anyhow, and why haven't I 
ever heard of her before ? Why in the name of the Great 
Horn Spoon should the governor want to saddle her off on me ? 
I'll bet she's a suffragette. Holy cats ! Not for little Billy. 
{Rises.) I wonder if I'd better get out of this before she gets 
back. Just as likely as not she has a minister hidden away in 
the hall somewhere and will try to marry me right off the reel 



A TELEGRAM FROM DAD 



13 



to-night. Say, I think it's about time for me to beat it. 
{Turns toward door L. Enter Mrs. R.) Stung ! 

Mrs. R. Now, Burnham, I want you to help me arrange 
my things about this room. As I am liable to be here some 
time, I want things to be as homelike as possible. 

Billy. What? Be here some time ! 

Mrs. R. Yes, certainly. I am liable to be here two or 
three weeks at least. 

Billy. But where am I going to stay ? 

Mrs. R. Wherever you have been staying, of course. 

Billy. But I have been staying 

Mrs. R. That will do. Stay just where you are in the 
habit of staying and it will be near enough. It will satisfy me 
perfectly. 

Billy {aside). Perhaps so, but it will be altogether too near 
to satisfy me perfectly. The farther away the better for your 
Uncle Bill, And just think of Pete and Terry. Won't their 
eyes bug out when they come back and find her camped in our 
rooms. Oh, my. {Laughs.) 

Mrs. R. What are you laughing at ? 

Billy. Why — er — ah — hanged if I know. 

Mrs. R, {suspiciously). I hope you have not been drink- 
ing. Remember that I was obliged to discharge my last groom 
for drinking. 

Billy. Oh, no, ma'am. Nothing like that. {Aside.) Con- 
found that other fellow I If he hadn't gone to work and got 
pickled I probably wouldn't have been in this mess. I v/onder 
what the deuce she means, anyway, when she says that she dis- 
charged him. I think she's slipped a cog myself. 

Mrs. R. I am very glad that you have not been drinking. 
I cannot stand a drinking man. 

Billy {aside). I've half a mind to tell her that I'm the 
biggest tank this side of Harvard. Perhaps she'd fire me then. 

Mrs. R. Now, Burnham, we shall open these packages and 
set the room to rights. 

Billy {aside). P'ine ! Fine! If she starts in making a 
housemaid of me this early in the game there is no telling what 
she'll be making me do by the end of the first year. 

Mrs. R. {laying packages on table). Now I want you to 
open this package. Be very careful of it for it contains 
mother's picture. 

Billy {opening package). Oh, yes, I'll be very careful. 
(Aside.') Mother's picture, eh. {Takes out picture aud sur- 



14 A TELEGRAM FROM DAD 

veys it carefully?) So that's mother. Una. Well, she looks it. 
But she don't get little Billy for a son-in-law. Nay, nay, 
Pauline. 

Mrs. R. I believe I'll have you hang it right away. 

Billy (aside). Oh, I'll hang mother with the greatest of 
pleasure. 

Mrs. R. (walking about stage). Now I wonder where she'd 
look the best. (Points right of door c.) Do you think she'd 
look natural from that position ? 

Billy. Perfectly. (Aside.) That is, if there were bars 
across the picture-frame. 

Mrs. R, Then I believe I shall have it put there. Bring 
the table over to stand on. 

Billy (aside). Anything to please. (Drags table to posi- 
tion, Mrs. R. running about stage.) Up she goes. 

(Climbs on table.) 

Mrs. R. Be careful not to knock off that large box. It 
contains my new hat. 

Billy (aside). Hat, is it? From its size I thought it must 
contain some of the new furniture. 

Mrs. R. (musingly). Now I don't know but the picture 
would look better here. (Points left of door c.) 

Billy. Oh, piffle. 

Mrs. R. Yes, you may put it there. I don't like the place 
where you are at all. 

Billy (jumping from table and pushing it to l. Aside). 
Well, I suppose a woman has a right to change her mind. 
(Aloud.) Now where do you want it? 

Mrs. R. (pointing). Right up there. Not too near the 
door, and not too far away from it. 

Billy (climbing on table). I suppose I should know from 
that just where it belongs. (Places picture against wall.) 

Mrs. R. On second thought I believe that I shall have it 
in the other place after all. 

Billy. For heaven's sake, madam, do you think that I'm 
going to push this table about the room all night ? 

Mrs. R. That will do. Put it in the other place. 

Billy (aside). This is certainly glorious. By Jove, I'll get 
that picture up this time before she has time to change her 
mind again. (Pushes table to right of door.) 

Mrs. R. There. Now put it exactly where you had it before. 



A TELEGRAM FROM DAD 1 5 

(Uks. ^. left of table.) 

Billy (aside). Here goes. 

(Climbs on table and leans over to fix picture. Steps on hat- 
box, loses his balance and falls off table, knocking Mrs, R. 
down and falling with head in her lap.) 

Mrs. R. My goodness ! 

Enter Rush, l. 

Rush. Margaret! What does this mean ? 

(Mrs. R. screams. She and^iiAN scramble to their feet ^ 

Billy (aside). Who the deuce is butting in here now ? 

Rush (comijig on stage). Margaret, what do you mean by 
such a performance as this ? 

Mrs. R. James ! The idea of your speaking in that 
manner. 

Billy (aside). James ? Say, I'll bet that's the other fellow. 
Well, praise Allah he's come back at last. 

Rush (excitedly). Well, I'll find out what it means. 
(Throws off coat and crosses to Billy.) What do you mean, 
sir, by coining in here durnig my absence ? 

Billy (coolly). Great Scot, James, don't get excited. 
Don't you know you're fired? 

Rush. Fired 1 Fired ! 

Billy. Sure. You got drunk and were fired. Don't you 
remember ? 

Rush (bewildered ; aside). I wonder if I am drunk. 

Billy (confidentially ; aside to Rush). But say, James, tell 
her that you don't drink any more and perhaps she'll take you 
back. Go ahead and try it. 

Rush. For heaven's sake, man, what's the matter with 
you ? Are you crazy ? 

Billy. No, but I will be if you don't get that woman out 
of here. 

Rush (sinking into chair). Margaret, as you value my 
sanity, please straighten this matter out. Who is this man ? 

Mrs. R. Why, James, that's my new groom. 

Billy (aside; helplessly). There she goes again. 

Rush (relieved). Oh, you mean the new servant? 

Billy (starting). Servant ! Servant ! Not by a darn 
sight. (To Rush.) For the love of Moses, man, has that 



1 6 A TELEGllAM FROM DAD 

woman got flies in her think-trap, or what is the matter with 
her? 

Rush (angrily). Sir, do you know who that woman is ? 

Billy. Sure. She's Miss Corson, whoever that may be, 
and she and the governor are trying to mess me tip in a matri- 
monial deal. 

Rush. She is not Miss Corson, nor is she trying to mess 
you up in any matrimonial deal. She is Mrs. James E. Rush, 
my wife. 

Billy. Your wife ! 

Mrs. R. And are you not the man my husband engaged to 
be my new servant ? 

Billy. Servant ! Not by one long, full-voiced howl and 
several minor yells. I am a student, and these are my rooms. 

{Noise and running outside l. Enter Pete, Terry and 
Liver.) 

Pete. Confound it all, Billy, I told you that your cussed 
signs would get us all into a mess some day. 

Billy. For heaven's sake, what have I done now? 

Pete. Done ! Great Csesar ! Here we worked hke sin to 
catch Rush, and instead of getting Rush, we caught this thing 
{pointing contemptuously at Liver.), that says it's chief of 
police, and came here to arrest you for stealing a sign. Now 
we're hung up and Rush has gone the Lord knows where. 

Rush. I can help you out there. I am Mr. Rush. 

Billy. You ! 

Rush. Certainly. Why not ? I was assistant coach with 
Yale for three years. 

Billy {shaking head helplessly ; aside). Oh, gee, where 
am I at, anyway ? 

Enter Boy, l. 

Boy {crossing to Billy). Say, you're de wise guy dat took 
dat telegram, ain't ye? Why didn't ye tell me it wasn't for 
you and den I wouldn't have got de rakin' over I did from de 
boss. 

Billy {seizing boy by ami). Do you mean to say that that 
telegram was not intended for me? 

Boy. Sure ting. I've had de boss, two men and a skirt 
after me for half an hour. If I don't get dat telegram back I'll 
get de hook sure, ' 



A TELEGRAM FROM DAD I7 

Billy {excitedly). Here you are. (Shoves telegram in 
Boy's hand.') And you tell that fool boss of yours that if he 
says another doggone word to you about the matter I'll come 
down there to-morrow and eat him up. Now get that telegram 
out of here quick. Here, take this. 

{Puts bill in Boy's hand and pushes him off stage l. 
Dances about stage. ) 

Terry. What the deuce is the matter ? Have you gone 
plumb dippy ? 

Billy. You bet I have, and it's a great feeling. Now 
everybody out and we'll have a brain storm. (Starts off l.) 

Pete. I don't know what it's all about, but I'm in on the 
brain storm, (Starts after Billy.) 

Terry. Come along, Clara. 

(Drags Liver, out by artn. Exeunt 1,., all but 'R.VSB. and 
Mrs. R. Mrs. R. dro/s into chair.) 

Rush. Well, Margaret, it seems that there were students on 
this floor after all. 



CURTAIN 



New Plays for Female Characters 

THE PURSUIT OF THE PARSON 
A Mock Trial in One Act 

By Helen Lee Brooks 
Thirteen females and jury. Costumes of the future ; scenery unimpor- 
tant. Plays one hour. A clever and amusing picture of the days to come 
iirhen the ladies will run things. Originally presented in Louisville, Ky 
Price, 25 cents 

CHARACTERS 
Hon, Portia Blackstone, Judge. 
Madame Elizabeth Kent-Coke, Prosecuting Attorney. 
Madame Tomasia Erskine, Attorney for Defendant, 
** Dotty " Develin, the Defendant. 
Clerk of the Court. 

ShERIFFo 

Witnesses for the Commonwealth Witnesses for Defendant 

Miss Mehitable Simpkins, a Dr. Eleanor Ainsworth, eX" 

spinster of uncertain age. pert Oculist and Alienist. 

Miss Nancy Ann Sims, another Mrs. Polly Posy, chum of 

spinster of doubtful age. Dotty. 

Prof. Elvira Jones-Johnson, Prof. Dolly Dimple, Professor 

Instructor of Advanced The- of the Art of Courtship. 

ology. Forewoman of the Jury and 

eleven jurors. 

THE TRUTH ABOUT JANE 
A Comedy in One Act 

By Alice C. Thompson 
Seven females. Costumes modern ; scenery, an easy interior. Plays 
twenty-five minutes. A very easy, bright and up-to-date piece doing 
justice to the virtues of the " athletic " girl. Strongly recommended. 
Price, 13 cents 

OYSTERS 

A Farce in One Act 

By Alice C. Thompson 

Six females. Costumes modern; scene, an easy interior. Plays 

twenty minutes. An easy and clever little play for younger girls, with 

one old maid character. A novel idea very amusingly treated. Strongly 

recommended. 

Price, 7/ cents 



New Plays 



A PAIR OF CRACKER-JACKS 

A Farce-Comedy in Three Acts 

By Scott Byrnes 
Four males, four females. Costumes modern; scenery, one interior. 
Plays two hours and a lialf. An unusually lively and amusing farce for a 
very small cast, easy to produce and effective in performance. All the 
parts are good and the laughs equally distributed. Produced profession- 
ally in 1904 ; professional acting rights reserved. Royalty of ten dollars 
(;^lo.oo) for amateur performance required by the author. 
Price, 2^ cents 

CHARACTERS 
]kcvi^KhCKx.Vi, a hard cracker. Mrs, Jack Cracker, yack's 
Jack Cracker, 2d, a fire- wife. 

cracker. Estelle Clayton, Jack seTs 

Junius Brutus Bang, in the fiancee. 

" profesh." Flo. Atkins, Jack's niece. 

Coffee, a colored brother, Katrina Von Hoot, Flos 

double, 
SYNOPSIS 
Act I. — Afternoon. Exhortations. 
Act II. — The same afternoon. Complications. 
Act III The same evening. Congratulations. 

THE LITTLE CO-ED 

A Vaudeville Sketch in One Act 

By Hamilton Coleman and Harry Osborne 
One male, who plays three parts, and one female. Costumes modem j 
scenery an easy interior. Plays twenty-five minutes. A bright and lively 
little sketch originally produced in vaudeville by Yuill and Boyd. A 
strong piece for a lady, full of points and action. Can be strongly recom- 
mended. 

Price, 13 cents 

THE SAME MAN 

A Comedy Sketch in One Act 

By Lida L. Coghlan 
Two female characters. Costumes modern ; scenery unimportant. Plays 
twenty minutes. A very clever and effective sketch for two young girls. 
Can be done entirely without stage or scenery or other preparation than 
mere memorizing and rehearsal. Played rapidly it is a sure success. A 
good bit for an exhibition programme. 

Price, ij" cents 



a. 5^. ^(neto's Paps 



THE MAGISTRATE •^*'^*'® ^"^ Three Acts. Twelve males, four 
females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, all 
interior. Plays two hours and a half. 

THE NOTORIOUS MRS. EBBSMITR J.^^' ?" J'T ^f 

Eig^ males, five females. 
Costumes, modern ; scenery, all interiors Plr ys a full evening. 

THF PROFI IfiATF Play in Four Acts, oeven males, five females. 

" Scenery, three interiors, rather elaborate ; 

costumes, modern. Plays a full evening. 

THF SCHOftI MISTRFSS Farce in Three Acts. Nine males, seven 
^ ' females. Costimies, modern ; scenery, 

three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

TBE SECOND MRS. TANQDERAY ^Xa™" t^. T.! 

tumes, modern ; scenery, three interiors. Plays a full evening. 

SWFFT I AVFNHFR Comedy in Three Acts. Seven males, four 
females. Scene, a single interior; costumes, 
modern. Plays a full evening. 

THF TIMFS ^o"i®<ly ^ Four Acts. Six males, seven females. 
Scene, a single interior ; costimies, modern. Plays a 
full evening. 

THF WFAKFR SFX C'^'^^'iy ^ Three Acts. Eight males, eight 
females. Costumes, modern ; scenery, two 
Interiors. Plays a full evening. 

A WIFE WITBODT A SMM ^Zl'^.^Z^Z,.Z: 

modern ; scene, a single interior. Plays a full eveaingo 



Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 
No. 5 Hamilton Place^ Boston, Massachusetts 




017 401 329 9 I 



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of ^laps 



AS YOII 1 IKV IT Comedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four 
Aij ivti A4lAt< 11 feniales. Costumes, picturesque ; scenery, va- 
ried. Plays a full evening. 

r A Mil ] p Drama in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. Cos- 
VAailL(LtLi tumes, modern ; scenery, varied. Plays a full evening. 

INfiOMAR Pl^y ™ Five Acts. Thirteen males, three females. 
'inuViTlAlX Scenery varied ; costumes, Greek. Plays a full evening. 

MAPY STIIAPT Tragedy in Five Acts. Thirteen males, four fe- 
iTliil\i OlUiUll males, and supernumeraries. Costumes, of the 
period , scenery, varied and elaborate. Plays a full evening. 

TDE MERCHANT OF VENICE ^^^^^^^^^^ 'c7Zit!f, 

picturesque ; scenery varied. Plays a full evening. 

RICHFI IFFI -^^^y ^° -"^"'^ Acts. Fifteen males, two females. Scen- 
JVlVlILiMl^l' ery elaborate ; costumes of the period. Plays a full 
evening. 

THF WIVAT S Comedy in Five Acts. Nine males, five females. 
1 UL( III T AL(J Scenery varied ; costumes of the period. Plays a 
full evening. 

SHF STftfiPS Tft fftNftllFR comedy in Five Acts. Fifteen 
JULi DIWIJ IV VUliyLlill males, four females. Scenery va- 
ried ; costumes of the period. Plays a full evening. 

TWELFTH NIGHT; OR, WHAT YOU WILL iX'/en^mS 

three females. Costumes, picturesque ; scenery, varied. Plays a 
full evening. 



Sent prepaid on receipt of price by 

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